


Interregnum

by PinguMew98



Category: Godless - Fandom
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-12 01:19:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12948210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinguMew98/pseuds/PinguMew98
Summary: So, surprised I'm the first Godless fic...This is sorta my take of things after the big shoot out and before the cemetery scene in the last episode.





	Interregnum

The sound of the rifle cocking set Callie on edge. The sound of the bullet exiting the chamber caused Callie to jump. The sound of bone shattering left Callie feeling sick.

The sound of the rifle cocking set Maggie on edge. The sound of the bullet exiting the chamber caused Maggie a moment of reprieve. The sound of bone shattering left Maggie feeling safe.

She cocked her rifle, feeling on edge. “Easy sister.” A gentle hand was on Maggie’s shoulder but she could not feel safe yet. “They only need to be killed but once.” Bill said to his listless sister. Maggie knew they were dead. But those fuckers killed some of her sisters. And one of those sisters could have been Callie. And that thought caused her blood to boil and the bile to rise to her throat. “Where are my children?” Bill asked, worry tinging his words. Spinning around to direct her brother towards the mine, she saw the wandering group of young and infirmed. Disregarding her, Bill left to meet the crowd. Slinging the rifle up onto her shoulder, she looked around the square. Twenty-nine dead bodies littered the ground. The death spams of horses and the crackling of burning buildings filled the air. And she spotted Callie, still standing on the stairs of the hotel, looking ragged and worn.

She strode over to the blonde. “Hey there.”

Callie jumped, surprised at the sound of a voice in the abyss, like a bullet exiting the chamber. But even in that abyss, she knew the sound of Maggie’s voice. And looking, actually looking, at Maggie, Callie saw her for who she really was: a scared, insecure woman, desperate to crawl into the embrace of a loving woman. She understood they were opposites. Maggie: a flurry of hair, of quick biting comments and a veneer of confidence hiding her self-doubts. Her: calm, almost waifish, slow of speech and no veneer needed for her confidence because she had no doubt about who she was, is.

“You’ve been shot!”

Maggie looked down at her arm, confused. The blonde’s hand undid the handkerchief that, moments before, was tied around Maggie’s neck, now being tied against her arm. “I hadn’t even noticed…” Maggie intoned, diverting her attention back to the bedraggled group of women. The people hiding in the mine filled the square, mixing with the women who made the last stand. “I need…” Maggie pulled away, looking at the blonde wistfully. “I know.” Callie smiled sadly as Maggie drifted into the crowd of people, her façade neatly in place, the picture of stoicism.

Maggie needed to be there. She walked among the people, ensuring the few residents left of La Belle were taken care of; she was their mayor after all. “Wounded move over to the Postal Office. We can get you patched up as soon as we can.” She felt a tug at her pant leg. Looking down, she saw her niece pulling at it. “Well hey there.” Crouching down, Maggie smiled at the little girl. Her niece pointed to her aunt’s arm. Following her finger, Maggie looked at her arm, sleeve – bright with blood, and her kerchief, tied around her arm. She shook her head at her niece, "I gotta help the other people first. I’m not hurt so bad as to not to help.” A tug at her sleeve. Maggie smiled sadly as she stood back up. “Why don’t you go find Ms. Dunne. I’m sure she could use your help.”

Bill wouldn’t like that she sent his daughter to assist her – what was the appropriate word here? – the town’s teacher, but fuck him. Thinking he could ride in and steal the show at the last minute. Maggie’s arm throbbed, she inspected the wound: a through and through. Hell, it’ll probably slow her down none. Looking up, she saw her niece with Callie, and Callie. Well, looking at the woman took Maggie’s breathe away. Embarrassed, Maggie straightened up, scanning the group for prying eyes. Callie may have no compunctions at their relationship, but she was used to, judgement.

Instantly, Maggie felt bad for thinking about Callie like she was still the town whore. It had been two years since that was her job title, half that time she shared her bed. What more did the woman have to do to prove that that part of her life was over? Callie remembered the first time she laid eyes on her, she had dramatically exclaimed her love in front of the town, and then took Maggie’s verbal abuse about sleeping with the German – only to be planning to surprise her with a painting for her birthday. She didn’t deserve that kind of love. But every time, a voice in the back of her head would remind her – Callie has been with others. With men, with women. Did she tell them she loved them? Did she promise to run away with them?

“Mary Agnes?”

Maggie spun on her heal, the question snapping her from her thoughts.

“What can I do for you Rebecca?” she drawled.

“Ain’t no doctors here. What are we to do about the wounded?”

Shit.

* * *

 

Maggie stood outside her house. Acrid smelling smoke floated about in the inky blackness. It filled her nostrils with the smell of singed flesh and blood. The smell was so encompassing, she could taste it. Two more women died of their wounds in the Postal Office. Two women. Not to mind the nine who were dead after the fire fight.

Maggie dug. All day and into the early evening. Some people came by and helped, but Maggie fought through the pain in her arm and her heart, and dug. Eleven graves for eleven bodies. Tomorrow, the denizens of the town decided, they would lay to rest the final body in the fight. Deputy Wynn would be interred and some words would be said for all those who had perished. So when Maggie laid the last shovel-full of dirt on the last grave, she let the shovel fall and trudged home. Which is where she was now. Outside her house, the smell and taste of burned flesh in her nose and mouth. Covered in dirt and caked with salt.

“Maggie?”

Maggie stopped once she entered the threshold. She couldn’t see, it was a moonless night, but she knew who it was. She felt a hand on her arms, jumping slightly when Callie’s hand accidentally grazed her bullet wound.

“Bath.” It wasn’t a question but a statement. Energy seemed to be seeping away from Maggie as her feet got heavier every step she took. By the time she reached the tub, she could only stand limply, a soft glow from the kerosene lamp the only illumination in the house. Callie took her hat off, tossing it on a nearby chair. She then proceeded to undress the other woman. She pulled Maggie’s suspenders off her shoulders and unbuttoned her blouse. The blouse gave her trouble as the fresh blood had adhered the cloth to the skin. Once she freed Maggie of her blouse, Callie gently stepped her out of her trousers and undergarments. “In.”

Wearily, Maggie got into the tub, the lukewarm water seeming to give a little life back to her. However, a little life might have been the dangerous thing because everything she was bottling up came out. She sobbed, clapping a hand over her mouth as if to stop the tears. Callie said nothing as she poured hot water over Maggie’s head, water running down her face and hiding her tears.

“This, show you have for others. You needn’t have it with me.”

Maybe it was the affirmation but something broke and Maggie sobbed large, breathy sobs that mixed with mucus and dust. Callie continued to alternate between rubbing some soap into Maggie’s hair and dousing her with warm water, in a queer baptism.

When the hot water was spent, Callie stood up from her seat, bucket in hand. Maggie was no longer sobbing but didn’t move from the washing tub, sitting in the brackish water, a thin layer of scummy dirt floating on top.

“Up.”

Again Callie’s pierced the evening, never asking a question, nor overtly demanding, but a gentle command. Maggie obliged, standing and stepping out of the tub, feeling a towel wrap around her, closing in around her like an embrace. And there was an embrace. Callie’s arms wrapped around her and she leaned into the embrace.

“Where in Virginia you from?”

The question was out of blue and it threw Callie for a loop, something she was not accustom to.

“Warrenton.”

Maggie honest to god snorted.

“You tellin’ me you’re from a place which bears the same name as your husband.”

“His folks went ahead and named him after our hometown.” Callie replied, her voice a little on edge.

“Whatd he do?”

“He was fixin’ to be a professor. We was comin’ out West ‘cause he got a job at some new school or some such in the Colorado Territory.”

“Afore he died and you wound up…” Maggie trailed off, consciously aware of where the young woman ended up.

“…here.” Callie finished. “And Magdelena took me in, taught me the ropes till she died too.”

Maggie broke away from the arms of her lover. “Seems to me your whole story is one sad one. One I'm sure some would say cursed by god and the like.”

Callie cocked her head to the side, like a puppy dog. “I don’t rightly know if there’s a god or not. But if there was, I’d say that all that sad stuff was just a ways to get me here with you.”

The towel dropped and Maggie kissed Callie...


End file.
